


Meant to Be

by andromedablacc (TheLittleGreenTypewriter)



Series: andromedablacc's imagine james and sirius prompts [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kid Harry, M/M, Sirius Potter - Freeform - Freeform, no Voldemort AU, time jumps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-06 23:45:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18398792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLittleGreenTypewriter/pseuds/andromedablacc
Summary: For the prompt: "Hiya! I'm not sure if I'm doing this write but here's a prompt I was going to write but got too lazy: Sirius going into Slytherin, either because he can't talk the sorting hat out of it or he owes it to Regulus or something and then James goes into Slytherin too because of Sirius. It can be as long or short as you want, really you don't have too. Thank you so much! I love Imagine James And Sirius”From the moment they met, James knew he would follow Sirius anywhere.





	Meant to Be

**Author's Note:**

> For the [imagine james and sirius](https://imaginejamesandsirius.tumblr.com/) prompt: "Hiya! I'm not sure if I'm doing this write but here's a prompt I was going to write but got too lazy: Sirius going into Slytherin, either because he can't talk the sorting hat out of it or he owes it to Regulus or something and then James goes into Slytherin too because of Sirius. It can be as long or short as you want, really you don't have too. Thank you so much! I love Imagine James And Sirius”

The younger Potters’ house, a small stone built cottage, comfortable for three, or five at most, sitting snugly in Aberdeenshire countryside not so far from the Potter Manse, is filled to bursting with guests, all there to celebrate Harry’s thirteenth birthday. Most of them are packed into the living room, perched on the arms of chairs and sitting in small heaps on the floor, and many are laughing at a story Fred and George Weasley have just finished telling about their misadventures with a ghoul. It’s a new story for Harry, and he laughs until he ribs hurt.

His dads are both smiling at him fondly, James from in front of the fireplace, a glass of firewhisky in his hand and looking strikingly like Fleamont with the flames throwing shadows over his dark brown skin, and Sirius from the floor at his feet, head thrown back to look up at him, his grey eyes full of mirth. Harry likes seeing them like this, happy and without restraint, but it doesn’t stop the groan leaving his mouth when Hermione sees the affectionate glances they share and decides to ask;

“How did you meet, Mr. Potter?”

Neither seem sure who she’s asking, but that has never stopped either of them. It’s a tale Harry has heard so many times before, and James always starts it the way he does now.

“Well, Hermione, you see, everyone always thinks we met on the Hogwarts Express, like yourself and Ron and Harry, or at the moments after our Sortings, but it was not some meeting of eyes across a train carriage or a crowed Great Hall, and knowing we’d found our forever best friends. We met before that. My parents liked to take me to parties they thought would be beneficial to me, so I would know some my classmates, and it was at Regulus’s-”

Here he pauses to wink at his brother in law, like Hermione might not recognise him, despite the uncanny similarity he has to Sirius. Regulus rolls his eyes, having heard this even more times than Harry, and goes back to drinking his wine.

“Seventh birthday party, I think, eighth maybe, that I met Sirius. And yes, I did know I’d marry him someday.”

“But Mr. Potter-”

“Call him James, Hermione, otherwise it gets confusing.”

“Yes Mr. Potter – I mean Sirius. But weren’t you only nine or ten?”

“Absolutely,” James says with a grin, and continues his story.

* * *

 He did not know the quiet boy with the mischievous glint in his pretty grey eyes would one day be his husband, but looking back, James could say he wanted it, even then.

The night was cold and dark, the stars twinkling high in the sky like crystals thrown wide, stuck there eternally. James looked at them and pulled his heavy woollen cloak closer as he and his parents made their way up to the imposing door to number 12 Grimmauld Place. He had no idea why Euphemia and Fleamont were making him go, why they were even going themselves; he’d heard them complain on more than one occasion that the Blacks were awful blood purists and racists to boot. Yet they’d insisted there would be many children here tonight that would be in James’s year at school, children he should get to know sooner rather than later, and so here they were, despite James’s protests.

The front door swung open just as Fleamont’s knuckles made to knock, the woman behind it wearing a fake smile nearly as obvious as her deep red lipstick. By her side was a small boy, dark and sullen looking, half hiding behind his long black hair and half behind his mother. James smiled at him, his lumos smile Euphemia called it, bright enough to lift a whole room. The boy shot him a dirty look, full of sneering disgust, and James could only hope this was the birthday boy and not the brother he’d may or may not be sharing a dormitory with in the near future.

“Good evening, Mr. Potter, Mrs. Potter. And this must be little James!” Mrs. Black welcomed them, her tone as false and bright as her smile. James’s parents smiled back, equally fake and James found himself wondering yet again why they’d come here.

Once inside, an old house elf, twisted and gnarled like an ancient tree, look their cloaks and immediately vanished with them, muttering something about foreign blood under his breath. Affronted, James looked to his parents, but they were still exchanging pleasantries with the Blacks and hadn’t noticed the rude little elf. As long as the older brother wasn’t as sullen as the younger – Regulus, he remembered suddenly – nor as subversive as the elf.

As his parents talked and talked, and Regulus hid further and further into his mother’s skirts, James took the time to look around the house. It wasn’t anything like the Manse, not with its enormous stair ways and wide halls, but looking up the staircase, James guessed it might be of a similar size overall, he couldn’t even see where the stairs ended, up and up, round and round. His eyes followed the banister, trying to find the end, and instead, near what James could only assume had to be the very top of the stairs, he found a face looking down at him, nearly identical to the ones in front of him, except for in place of derision, there was an emotion James knew far better; mischief.

The shark’s grin on his sharp, surprisingly pretty, face was unmistakable even from such distance as he lifted what looked like some kind of ball, heavy and wobbly like jelly over the banister. He caught sight of James, pointed towards the ball, and winked. He knew where this was going and flattened himself against the wall by the stairs, hitting his head on some knife edged plaque, displaying what he thought might be a house elf’s head. The boy on the stairs, who could only be Sirius, dropped the ball silently and hid down behind the banister as it fell, almost in slow motion, towards the dark green carpet.

 Walburga Black let out a scream of rage like no other James had ever heard as the ball exploded upon impact with the ground, releasing a wave of foul smelling green slime that splattered Mrs. Black, the whole hallway, and many of her guests, drowning out the sound of his laughter. Any humour he might have felt, and he’d felt rather a lot of it, vanished with the sound, and the look of fury that twisted Walburga’s face, dark grey eyes immediately going to exactly where Sirius had been standing. Most of the guests were making horrified noises themselves, trying to wipe slime from their robes and hair and glasses; they all stopped at the sound of Mrs. Black screaming her elder son’s name.

“Walburga,” Mr. Black hissed, “Do not cause a scene.” He went back to making placating noises at his guests, saying how sorry he was, how much of accident it must have been, but all eyes were on Mrs. Black now as she positively flew up the stairs.

James had expected to dislike the Blacks, even to hate them, but he hadn’t expected the fear that gripped him as it did then the closer Walburga got to her elder son. He had never even spoken to the other boy, yet somehow he felt the need to protect him from his mother’s rage, a need he would find would never go away.

“Mum,” he said, almost a whisper, certainly desperate. Euphemia looked at him, covered from head to toe in dark green as she was, and there was irritation in her face, but also understanding. She shook her head.

The party ended not long after that, though Cygnus managed to clean everyone and everything with just a command to his house elf, supremely apologetic and offering everyone, including James a large glass of champagne to wash off the memory. The Potters might even have stayed had Walburga not come down the stairs moments later, looking completely unruffled bar the small stain of blood on her left sleeve.

* * *

 James thought of Sirius often after that, though it was a long time before he saw him again. He thought of the mischievous grin, the pretty face, the almond shaped eyes now he couldn’t remember the colour of; were they brown, blue? Hazel, likes James? He couldn’t remember much, except that he wanted to see him again.

The McKinnon’s Christmas parties were legendary, or so Fleamont decided when he announced they would be attending the affair one afternoon in the early winter before James turned eleven. He’d been to plenty pureblood parties since the one for Regulus’s birthday and now, and yet he’d never once seen Sirius again, much to his disappointment. He’d heard his name plenty times though, in the whisperings of other children and parents. The party had left the Blacks veritable pariahs, what with the mess they’d made, and the overreaction of Walburga, but the wedding of Bellatrix Black and Rodolpus Lestrange had managed to lessen the effects somewhat, and James was finally getting his chance to see Sirius again. Euphemia and Fleamont both seemed a little perplexed by their son’s reaction to getting to see a boy he had never technically met, yet they said nothing.

The ballroom at the McKinnon’s town house was decorated all in gold and green, matching the dress Mrs. McKinnon wore when she led them into the room. There was so much to look at from the enormous tree with tiny green fairies fluttering about it to the small gaggle of children at the top end of the room, most familiar now from all the parties. Marlene was there looking pretty as ever in a glittery gold dress that matched her hair, but James’s eyes skittered over her and the other children there.

Grey. Sirius’s eyes were grey, James realised when his gaze landed on the other boy. He didn’t even realise he was walking towards him, grin on his face, until he was before the other boy, holding out his hand.

“I’m James Potter.”

Sirius raised his eyebrows, amusement clear in his eyes, but took James hand anyway and shook it once. “Sirius Black.”

“I know. I saw you at your brother’s party.”

Sirius grinned at the mention of the party. “That _was_ good wasn’t it. I remember your face.”

“Your dad gave me champagne,” James told him.

Sirius rolled his eyes exaggeratedly but his grin stayed in place. “He does that. Wanna see if we can make the tree fairies start screaming?”

The boy Sirius had been talking to balked at that, his mouth opening and shutting like a goldfish stuck in a too-small bowl. “I-I-Well I don’t think you should-”

“Maybe if we spin them?” James asked, and led the way over to the tree, glancing over his shoulder to check Sirius was following.

They did manage to get the fairies to scream, and to turn all the green baubles red, and to make the tinsel slither around the guests throats like snakes. After the look of rage on Walburga’s face when a tinsel snake wrapped a touch too tight around her neck, the two boys ran as fast as their gangly legs would carry them out the ballroom, down a spiral set of stairs and out into the garden, cold biting at James’s cheeks as soon as he set foot outside. For a moment they stood still and silent in the dark garden until a burst of laughter bubbled from Sirius’s lips.

His laugh was deep and throaty, and James decided then it was the best sound he would ever hear. He couldn’t help they way he joined in until they were both gasping for breath, gripping onto each other’s shoulders.

“Did you see mum’s face?” Sirius asked between bursts of laughter. “She’s gonna be so angry.”

“Not as angry as the fairies!”

“Or indeed the McKinnons.” The sound of his father’s voice didn’t stop James’s laughter, yet suddenly Sirius was standing straight, no humour in his face, only defiance.

“Who’re you?” Sirius snapped, glaring at Fleamont.

“That’s my dad,” James said when he’d collected himself enough.

“Indeed.” Fleamont’s eyes met Sirius’s for a moment, as if Sirius was sizing him up. Fleamont didn’t even look properly angry, just annoyed.

“James, we’re leaving.” He waved off James’s protests and ushered his son out the door, abandoning Sirius in the garden.

Just as they were getting ready to apparate home from the front of the house, Sirius appeared and grabbed James’s sleeve.

“Mum won’t let me go to any more parties now. You’ll be at Hogwarts with me though, I’ll see you there?”

The boy looked worried almost as he examined James’s face. Merlin’s beard, he really was so pretty.

“Of course, Sirius,” James said. “We’re friends.”

* * *

 From that night, James and Sirius began to write to each other, and though they didn’t see each other again until they met on the Hogwarts Express, they quickly became close friends. They planned pranks and wrote of the Quidditch stars they’d be, of how they’d rule the world.

When it came to their Sorting, there was no doubting they’d be in the same house. Sirius would go first, being a Black, and James would follow him anywhere, same as Sirius would have.

The house shouted, “Slytherin,” nearly as soon as it touched Sirius’s head, and James had no fear when he sat on the stool.

“Want to be in Slytherin, ey?” the hat said in his ear. “All for that boy? Gryffindor would suit you better.”

“I want to be with Sirius.” James thought.

The hat laughed, all unsettling but shouted “Slytherin!” all the same.

Sirius grinned and hugged him tight when he slipped into the seat beside him.

“Told you we’d be together,” James told him. He’d known since they’d first met, of course.

* * *

 James grins as finishes his story, stopping only briefly to press a kiss to Sirius’s lips. Harry rolls his eyes at their affecting.

“So you should’ve been in Gryffindor then, Mr. Potter?” Hermione asks. Harry has never thought about that before, about how his dad could’ve been in his house. Or maybe if he had been, Harry wouldn’t exist at all.

“Never,” his dad says. “I was meant to be where Sirius was.”


End file.
